Annihliation Fan Fiction: Estranged
by Corwin Black
Summary: The Shimmer is now appearing in new places around the world. Someone has stumbled into the shimmer; someone who is immune to its terrible effects; but will he kill everyone who tries to extract him?
1. Chapter 1: What The Hell?

**Annihilation/Southern Reach Fan Fiction**

 **Estranged: By Corwin Black**

 **Chapter: WTF; What The Foxtrot?**

That's when shit really started to get weird. Slingshot had led me to the body he had found. I'm no forensic CIS but this soldier had died a violent death. At least I think so. It was so overgrown with moss and tiny flowers that I couldn't tell how long she had been dead. There was flesh on her bones and it hadn't had time to rot. I had smelled wounds with rotting flesh in the hospital. It was unmistakable. This body should reek to high heaven. But it didn't.

The soldier was armed. She had an M9 Beretta. It was civilian issue it was an M9-A3. One of the guns that had been replaced with the Sig P320. I carried a G19x; mine, also was a civilian version; although it did have an Agency Arms custom job.

Slingshot was sniffing everything about this woman. He had never seen or smelled anything like her; I knew. I ordered slingshot to do a quick look around of the area to make sure that nobody was waiting in ambush for us. He snorted in disapproval; which was his way of saying that he had already done that but would check again anyway.

The M9-A3 was brand new and looked like it had never been fired. There wasn't even any copper polishing marks on the feed ramp.

Her rifle was underneath her as she lay face down. The rifle was military issue however. I wrestled it free from it's resting place. It was in remarkably good condition. It had a genuine Colt military issue M4; select fire, safety. I unloaded the weapon. She had died with six rounds left in the magazine. There was carbon on the bullet tip that came out of the chamber. She had died fighting. However, she had died with bullets still in her gun, and she had not been ambushed properly or she would have not been able to return fire. I could find no reasonable cause of death, but didn't deploy anything close to an autopsy. I wasn't qualified and I also didn't have that kind of time.

I looked for her dog tags. I found them but they were very puzzling. They read:

SOUTHERN REACH EXPEDITION 14

USArmy. Fort Navajo; AZ

CARTOGRAPHER; METHODIST

Bneg KNDA PCN

Exposed to DM1-CX-47G 2-21-20

This told me a lot. But I didn't like any of it. There was no name; rank, or serial number. The three things EVERY dog tag had. I was from Arizona so I knew that 'Fort Navajo' was actually called 'Camp Navajo'; at least officially. It has always been an urban legend that the army was doing secret 'black box' stuff there. Her blood type was B negative, and she was Methodist; however, her name I guess was 'Cartographer'. It occurred to me that it wasn't a name but a call sign; except that call signs never got that intelligent. Mine was 'Kilroy'. She had developed or they had discovered an allergy to penicillin after the tags were initially made. What the hell was DM1-CX-47G? Answering that question alone would have been INSANELY valuable I knew.

The dog tags were steel. They were CERAKOTED, fluorescent orange. I pulled my multi-tool out and cut off the Tags. I put one in my admin pouch. I took the other; and jammed it in her mouth between her front and lower jaw. This was standard military practice and was not considered a desecration of the body in any way. Every soldier knew it. It was done so that the tag could be found with the skull; even after decades of being lost.

So many things here simply didn't add up. Her M4 was of recent manufacture. It also had Magpul furniture, the latest generation. However the 1913 rail on the guns upper receiver was topped with a traditional m16 style rear sight with carry handle, which was the pinnacle of tactical optics; in 1960. The bolt and carrier group had been nitrite coated; State of the art in the hear and now.

Slingshot returned and gave me the 'all clear' signal. Good dog. It was no wonder he had been awarded a Silver Star when he was a Marine.

Why would anyone deliberately issue a military gun without an ACOG (pronounced A-Kog) or anything else that was standard issue; like a light, or a PEQ-15 (pronounced like peck fifteen)?

Her bullets were M855A (pronounced M eight five-five A). These bullets are current military issue in the here and now. I topped off my partial PMAG D60 (pronounced P-Mag D-sixty) with what was taken out of the magazine that she had in her gun and a full thirty rounds taken out of one of her still topped off USGI magazines (pronounced U-S-G-I). I also unloaded her other two magazines and put the sixty rounds on stripper clips and placed them into my clip pouch. I was now back to my 360 rounds of 5.56x45 NATO loud out. I also still had my 128 rounds of 9mm (subsonic; 'Hydras' manufactured by Federal).

That was a lot of ammo; and a lot of weight. I compensated in MANY other areas of my gear. I was heavy; but not overloaded. For example I didn't carry a pair of binoculars; my 1-8x scope had HD glass in it already. That saved me an extra 49 bullets of weight; meaning that my binoculars were the same weight as 49 bullets. I had also opted for the level III ultra light body armor, at a whopping $1,200 PER plate. That saved me eight pounds; which was 288 bullets worth of weight. You get the idea. If you're going to carry something heavy into combat; MAKE SURE IT'S THE AMMO.

Slingshot was still alert and watching. He had been a Marine before I adopted him. His handler had been killed in Afghanistan and Slingshot had refused to be paired with anyone else. Through a friend of a friend of a high school friend of mine; who knew I was really good with dogs had called in a favor to allow me to adopt Slingshot. It still cost me $6,000. Which is why I was still driving my old Jeep. I never regretted it. Slingshot was an awesome dog. Here and now I was particularly impressed with what a good investment Slingshot had been; even without taking into account that he was the best dog in the entire universe.

The rifle Ammo I carried with me was XM855 military surplus; essentially the same as the ammo I took from the dead soldier; only a generation older. However my magazines were 'stacked'. This means that I had two different types of ammo in each magazine and they alternated between the XM855 which was designed to penetrate deep into a bad guy's body; and soft point, which are designed to do the exact opposite and brake apart into a million pieces after they hit the bad guy. This caused massive tissue damage and vascular destruction. Being hit by a both of these bullets in rapid succession had 'magnificent' results. With what I had just found; that thought brought me a lot of comfort.

I checked my blood sugar again. 89 mg/dl (pronounced milligrams per deciliter). Perfect; for a non-diabetic. A little low for me. However, it had stayed that way for over three hours now. I checked the last six results, the ones since I realized that things here were not right somehow.

122 mg/dl; Six hours ago.

108 mg/dl; five hours ago.

96 mg/dl; four hours ago.

95 mg/dl; three hours ago.

89 mg/dl; two hours ago.

88 mg/dl; one hour ago.

89 mg/dl; now.

I hadn't taken any insulin in eight hours. My long acting should have worn off about two to three hours ago and my sugar should have spiked. It should be in the high 200's by now. Slingshot seemed fine. He had gone a little crazy about three or four hours ago but after he had a chance to sniff my blood as I checked the sugar he seemed to be doing just fine; physically anyway. This place still had him on edge.

I returned to searching my dead compatriot. She had been a cartographer indeed. She had a journal. It was essentially a large 'write in the rain' pad. It had a lot of entries on topography and the area in general. Her compass evidently didn't work here either because there was no references to North or South. However the maps did have detailed notes on how to get your bearings anyway. This was a serious relief for me; as my sense of direction was really very poor. I did know how to read a map extremely well. I had to in order not to get lost when I was playing armchair commando on the weekends. Her notations were no mystery to me and it was easy to get my bearings.

Slingshot's sense of direction was outstanding. The wonder dog learned very quickly that not only did I not get upset when he grunted at me; for going the wrong way; that I took his doggie advice quite seriously. We understood each other. I was deliberate about remembering these things because it helped calm my rising sense of anxiety about this place. How the hell did I get here; and where was 'here'?

There was a 'Base Camp' about three clicks from here. In this terrain; and proceeding cautiously I could make it there in about five hours. There were traps and markers on the map of the base camp. I hoped they were accurate.

I consumed my one; and only MRE. Then set out towards the base camp.

 **Chapter: Observe before You Move.**

I approached 'Base Camp' just as it was past dark; my five hour assessment of travel time was very accurate; that reassured me somehow, like this place had not contaminated me, at least not in a bad way. The stars here were magnificent. I'd never seen anything like it. With my ability to see high contrast light better than others I didn't even need my flashlight to see pretty clearly. I just watched the shadows and that told me about as much as an illuminator could. My NVG was also lightweight; and I only used one instead of two. In the dark only having one eye in front of an night vision device had it's advantages; after you had adjusted enough to avoid the magnificent headaches.

I placed my NVG on my rifle in front of my scope. With the magnification I could see well into the camp. Nothing. After a couple of hours I started to test some of the booby trap locations that had been marked on the map. I placed my third 60 round drum magazine in my rifle. This one was loaded solely with 77 grain Sierra Match King bullets. I had hand loaded the entire batch and tuned the load to this specific rifle. It shot 1/4 to 1/3 MOA; Very accurate. I pulled the trigger and the loud bang from my rifle echoed. My shot struck true and the claymore mine at the base camp blew up spectacularly. At least the map was marked accurately about the land mines. There was no reaction from the Base Camp. Apparently it was abandoned. I moved to my secondary location and observed for another hour and seventeen minutes. Still no movement. I started to walk in.

 **Chapter: Naked Lady.**

I took a cautious approach to the Base Camp. As I approached the bunker Slingshot nipped at me and I stopped. This meant that he had seen something, or someone who could be a threat but didn't mean them any direct harm. I approached the door consciously. The light was on. As I looked in their was a light at a table. A woman sat there and was writing in a journal. She had a blanket wrapped around her from the waist down buy was naked otherwise. She saw me and I froze. She dismissed me as something that was unimportant and went back to her writing. I observed her; in plain sight of the naked woman for about five minutes or so. She never gave me a second look. She was totally unconcerned about me.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

Her violent and well rehearsed response made me exceedingly glad that I had worn my best body armor and brought two trauma kits with me. She reached under her blanket and pulled out a Smith and Wesson 357 magnum and opened fire. My weekend retreats playing armchair commando paid serious dividends as by the time she had gotten her revolver to bear on me, I had put three rounds of 5.56x45mm into her chest. It was her or me. I had no choice. She still managed to get all six shots off though but most of them all over the place as she reeled forward when the shots hit her. All six rounds went into the concrete floor. Instead of running back the way I dashed in closer to her and hid behind an old rusty truck. I made certain that engine block was between me and her.

Blood was spouting out of her mouth and chest. I pulled my rifle up and put the tip of the chevron in my scope's reticle in the middle of the triangle that was formed by drawing imaginary lines between her nipples and her nose. This was nicknamed 'The Cemetery's Triangle'. If you hit anybody in that triangle they were going to go down. There was simply too many large blood vessels there. I paused a second. However she managed to reload the revolver with a speed loader so fast that would make a revolver shooting champion impressed. She even knew how to close the cylinder properly. Before she could get a firing solution I pressed the trigger three more times and she was done. All three shots hit her in the upper sternum; right on target. She fell; and did not move a muscle. Blood poured out of her like a keg of beer had been turned upside down. I scanned the area; found a good dark place to set an ambush. I shined my 800 lumen weapon light there to make sure that nobody was around the stack of concrete bags and moved to await anyone who might come and investigate my shooting.

Slingshot was doing his thing. Listening, and smelling, and watching. He turned toward a door on the far side of the warehouse. I approached cautiously. There was a voice comming through the door. I couldn't make out the words but the tone was one of desperate need of help. Slingshot was trained both as a combat dog and a friendly unit locate and retrieve dog. He knew an ally calling for help when he heard it. This was the best dog in all of creation; I thought to myself.

The door was locked; but that was nothing that I couldn't get around. I was no rocket scientist, like my brother; or a PHD geneticist like my sister; or a sixteen year old with a college degree at age 16 like my niece... but I did know how to shot stuff and pick door locks like a pro. I was just smart in different ways.

As I opened the door there was a staircase down. Evidently the girl down there heard me. The stench was awesome. "You'll have to come and get me out." she said.

 **Chapter: Bait.**

I did not abandon the woman in distress, but I did not acknowledge her. She knew I was here. Slingshot had barked an insistent plea to go to her rescue. I commanded him to follow me. Without talking a word to our woman in distress I and the dog proceeded to leave the door open to the basement so as to let it air out a little. We quietly proceeded to the naked lady. She was a mess.

The human body possess a lot more blood than all of the horror movies would suggest. Horror movies are very inaccurate in terms of the blood and gore they display; but it's usually because they don't show ENOUGH blood; not even close to enough.

The naked ladies remains sat in the middle of her life's blood that was sprawled over a twenty foot diameter pool of it. I really didn't want all the shit on my boots but time was of the essence. However, I looked around and found her blanket; along with a couple of other blankets... and then I found a stack of sand bags in the corner. I wheeled a chair over to them and put two in the chair. I pulled out the 'One Way Ticket' that's what I named my knife and began to pour sand over the blood to make a path to the woman's dead body that I could walk on without slipping and falling in the blood bath. A blood bath now mixed with bile, feces, and urine, and vomit. I pulled out my medical mask and put it on. I put some peppermint oil on the chair to displace the stench; a trick I had learned working in a hospital. I also scored some industrial glass cleaner on the way back to the body.

My trapped victim in the basement was now getting more insistent with her please; which resulted in a coughing fit. I didn't think that the fit could be faked. She really was in distress.

I managed to walk my way over to the naked lady's body. She was a causation; African mix in her early forties or perhaps fifties. She had been in excellent health; at least physically. Her hair was died black but the roots were very gray; my beard was the same way.

She had the same fluorescent orange dog tags as the first soldier I had encountered. I removed them cleaned them off of the blood; they read:

SOUTHERN REACH EXPEDITION 16

ECOLOGIST & MEDIC; ATHEIST

USArmy. Fort Navajo; AZ

A Pos. KNDA PCN

Exposed to DM1-CX-47G 8-16-18

I put the clean dog tag in my admin pouch along with the other I had collected and placed the other one in the naked lady's jaw just as before. I teared up and shed a couple of them for this woman. She had been brave and had volunteered for an obvious suicide mission. Circumstances dictated that I had to kill her; it was me or her. However, the tragedy of this was not lost on me. If anything I wanted to find what was responsible and kill it, or them.

I needed to turn my attention to my lady who needed to be rescued; down in the basement.

MORE ON THE WAY

THANX FOR READING

Corwin Black.


	2. Chapter 2 BAIT

**Annihilation/Southern Reach Fan Fiction**

 **Estranged: By Corwin Black**

 **Chapter: Bait.**

I did not abandon the woman in distress, but I did not acknowledge her either. She knew I was here. Slingshot had barked an insistent plea to go to her rescue. I commanded him to follow me instead. Without talking a word to our woman in distress; I and the dog proceeded to leave the door open to the basement so as to let it air out a little. Slingshot and I quietly proceeded to the naked lady.

My shots had been accurate and had hit several vital organs and blood vessels. She was a mess. This was the first time I had killed a human being. I was remarkably unshaken about it. It was like I actually had killed a person before this. Several years ago I had brought a dog home from the pound only to have it attack and kill my miniature pincer without cause or warning. I had to pull the dog out of it's mouth with my bare hands. The dog I brought home from the pound was a menace. I put the dog down, I had to. I don't like to talk about it. Somehow that experience had prepared me for having to kill another human being.

The human body possesses a lot more blood than all of the horror movies would suggest. Horror movies are very inaccurate in terms of the blood and gore they display; but it's usually because they don't show ENOUGH blood; not even close to enough.

The naked ladies remains sat in the middle of her life's blood that was sprawled over a twenty foot diameter pool of it. I really didn't want all the shit on my boots but time was of the essence. However, I looked around and found her blanket; along with a couple of other blankets... and then I found a stack of sand bags in the corner. I wheeled a chair over to them and put two in the chair. I pulled out the 'One Way Ticket' that's what I named my knife and began to pour sand over the blood to make a path to the woman's dead body that I could walk on without slipping and falling in the blood bath. A blood bath now mixed with bile, feces, urine, and vomit. I pulled out my medical mask and put it on. I put some peppermint oil on the chair to displace the stench; a trick I had learned working in a hospital. I also scored some industrial glass cleaner on the way back to the body.

My trapped victim in the basement was now getting more insistent with her please; which resulted in a coughing fit. I didn't think that the fit could be faked. She really was in distress.

I managed to walk my way over to the naked lady's body. She was a Caucasian; African mix in her early forties or perhaps fifties. She had been in excellent health; at least physically. Her hair was died black but the roots were very gray; my beard was the same way.

She had the same fluorescent orange dog tags as the first soldier I had encountered. I removed them; and cleaned them off of the blood; they read:

SOUTHERN REACH EXPEDITION 16

ECOLOGIST & MEDIC; ATHEIST

USArmy. Fort Navajo; AZ

A Pos. KNDA PCN

Exposed to DM1-CX-47G 8-16-18

I put the clean dog tag in my admin pouch along with the other I had collected and placed the other one in the naked lady's jaw just as before. I teared up and shed a couple of them for this woman. She had been brave and had volunteered for an obvious suicide mission. Circumstances dictated that I had to kill her; it was me or her. However, the tragedy of this was not lost on me. If anything I wanted to find what was responsible and kill it, or them.

I needed to turn my attention to my lady who needed to be rescued; down in the basement.

 **CHAPTER: Big Brother is Watching You.**

A team of tier 1 commandos were now observing the dead body of the cartographer from Expedition 14. The Captain now wondering how Southern Reach knew exactly where to find her. Whoever had gotten here first was male, wore a size fourteen boot; triple wide, and knew a lot about weapons. She was impressed that a male had gotten this far into the Shimmer without going insane. Especially since he had obviously not crossed at the door.

The Commando Team's tracker returned from her look about and reported to her captain, "Subject is male, probably two hundred and twenty pounds and wearing another one hundred and ten pounds of equipment. His boots are reinforced with braces of some sort. He has a dog with him. Definitely a Marine Corp K9; although his toe nails are not trimmed to Marine specs." the tracker concluded.

"Is the relay working?" asked the captain.

"Yes, it's up." said the comms expert.

The Captain spoke to her radio, "Reach; this is 'Kukri'. We have reached the way point. How copy?".

"Good Copy." replied the Southern Reach controller who was sitting in a nice safe control tower. "Please report."

She conveyed all the information about the subject they were tracking. She continued, "Subject also took time to properly deploy the cartographer's dog tag. He even made sure the body was face up so it could be easily seen, and her remains recovered." The Captain liked this guy. She liked him a lot. There was no way a veteran soldier; a female US Army Ranger no less could not like a person who took the time to show respect for a fallen soldier; and make sure that the body could be recovered more easily. Especially when he was male and the fallen soldier was female. This man didn't have to say he respected woman soldiers; he showed it. And he showed it when no one was watching.

"Continue;" prompted Reach, "what else?"

"Subject sprawled the words, 'Kilroy was here' on the cartographer's admin pouch. He topped off his magazines with her ammunition but left her weapons. Both of them have had their firing pins removed. This man is a weapon's expert at the least." The Captain wanted to know how Reach had known exactly where to find the cartographer. Reach had also known that this 'Kilroy' had deployed her dog tag properly; they were not surprised by this fact, and they should have been. They must have already known.

The Captain paused for orders. She deliberately neglected to mention that the cartographer's journal was gone. Reach should think to ask because Kukri (the commandos) were supposed to report that. The journal's status and location was of the upmost importance. This fact had been drilled into them. Reach failed to ask. Instead Reach said, "Proceed to Base Camp and search for 'Kilroy' there. Do not attack him. Even if fired upon; that is an order, under penalty of treason. He must be brought in alive at all costs." There was an unmistakable stress in Reach's voice on the words 'all costs'.

MORE ON THE WAY GUYS

THANX FOR READING

Corwin Black


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